They knew the
wisdom of Umatilla, and seemed proud that his will had been so readily
obeyed.

But not so with the biters. They were young, and they had plotted on this
night to begin hostilities against the settlers. Their plan had been to
burn the log school-house and the house of the Woodses, and to make a
captive of Mrs. Woods, whose hostile spirit they wished to break and
punish. Soon after the quiet scene at midnight they began to be restless.
Their cries arose here and there about the margin of the plateau and along
the river.

The old chief knew their feelings, and saw the stormy ripples here and
there. He arose slowly, and called:

"My people, draw near."

The tribe gathered about the platform. The young braves knew what the old
chief was about to say, and their cries of discontent grew loud and
multiplied.

"The log school-house!" shrieked one, in a voice of rage.

"_Pil-pil!_" cried another. "_Pil-pil!_" echoed many voices. A tumult
followed, and Gretchen started up from her reverie, and heard among the
restless murmurs the name of Mrs. Woods.

She felt a nervous terror for a moment, but her spiritual sense and faith,
which had come to her like a new-born life, returned to her.

She arose on the platform and took her violin, and looked down upon the
sea of dusky faces in the smoky moonlight. She drew her bow. The music
quivered. There was a lull in the excited voices. She played low, and
there followed a silence.

The old chief came heavily up on the platform with a troubled face and
stood beside her.

"Play the beautiful air." She played the _Traumerei_ again.

The chief arose, as the last strain died away, and said:

"My people, listen."

The plateau was silent. The Columbia could be heard flowing. The trees
seemed listening. Benjamin came upon the platform, reeling, and seemed
about to speak to his father, but the old chief did not heed.

"My people, listen," repeated the chief.

A wild shriek of pain rent the air, and Benjamin dropped at the feet of
his father. It was his voice that uttered the cry of agony and despair as
he fell.

What had happened?

The boy lay on the platform as one dead. The old chief bent over him and
laid his hand on his face. He started back as he did so, for the face was
cold. But the boy's eyes pitifully followed every movement of his father.
Gretchen sunk down beside the body, and drew her hand across his forehead
and asked for water. Benjamin knew her.

Soon his voice came again. He looked wistfully toward Gretchen and said:

"I shall never go to find the Black Eagle's nest again. It is the plague.
My poor father!--my poor father!"

"Send for the medicine-man," said the chief. "Quick!"

Hopping-Bear, the old medicine-man, came, a dreadful figure in eagle's
plumes and bear-skins. To affect the imagination of the people when he was
going to visit the sick, he had been accustomed to walk upon his two hands
and one foot, with the other foot moving up and down in the air. He
believed that sickness was caused by obsession, or the influence of some
evil spirit, and he endeavored, by howlings, jumpings, and rattling of
snake-skins, to drive this imaginary spirit away. But he did not begin his
incantations here; he looked upon Benjamin with staring eyes, and cried
out:

"It is the plague!"

The old chief of the Cascades lifted his helpless face to the sky.

"The stars are gone out!" he said. "I care for nothing more."

The boy at times was convulsed, then lay for a time unconscious after the
convulsions, then consciousness would return. In one of these moments of
consciousness he asked of Gretchen:

"Where is Boston tilicum?"

"He is not here--he does not know that you are sick."

"Run for him; tell him I can't go to the Missouri with him. I can't find
the Black Eagle's nest. Run!"

His mind was dreaming and wandering.

Gretchen sent a runner to bring the schoolmaster to the dreadful scene.